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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22818430">Jez</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrathNotRat/pseuds/WrathNotRat'>WrathNotRat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Before [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Author giggled a lot, Author not sorry, Childhood Memories, F/M, Fluff, Homelessness, Light Petting, My first Light Petting, Past Lives, Pre-Far Cry 5, Softness for Jacob, Swearing, pre-game</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:27:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,220</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22818430</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrathNotRat/pseuds/WrathNotRat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>One Shot softness for Jacob. Pre-FC5. Trying to imagine him on the streets, just before his brothers finding him. Light change of circumstances due to original character, Jez.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jacob Seed/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Before [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631734</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Jez</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>All righty. We have Fanfic Softness for Seeds One Shot 2/4. This one is about JaMUSCLEScob. I tried to capture a part of him while he was living on the streets, just before his brothers finding him, and then tipping my toe into the experience of the brothers reuniting without trying to sour it. Other people may have their views on the meeting of the brothers, and I didn't wanted to mess up what people may imagine it was like, so just a toe is needed in that part of the One Shot.</p>
<p>Now, I had to shift things along a touch. I hope you forgive me. There's truly not enough background based on the brothers. Or Faith, for that matter. It's almost like they wanted us to make up details. But, I suppose it is a way to carry it on. Too many details, and there'd be too few Fanfics because all the story is done and over with, and however would you put up with me then? ☺</p>
<p>And, this story is dedicated to my Jez. She's my Jez, you can't have her. I love her to bits (Not like that, dude 😋). When you eventually get to the surname of the character Jez, you'll wonder why the Mirsa Murphy-Furoga middle name and surname (minus hyphen) is so odd, and long, and odd, and particular, and odd. </p>
<p>Well, it's an Anagram for my Jez, because, frankly, I'm NOT wasting enough of her time. This'll do it.</p>
<p>Darling Jez, the clue is that it's about something you love about ME. Good luck, squish 😘 </p>
<p>Everybody else, try the Anagram if you'd like, otherwise, may I introduce you to yet another original character (because I'm saving my Dep stories because they may be brutal and I don't wish for that yet) - Jez.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jacob had lived out here bout 2 years, on and off. Picked up stupid fucking jobs. Big, strong, tough man like himself, easy to load crates n shit. Better kept in the back, his war upon his skin terrified the chickenshit customers.</p>
<p>What the fuck was he doing back here?</p>
<p>The streets. Ass end of Rome, Georgia. No sign of them. He'd looked, fucking hell he'd looked. Just nothing but doors slammed in his face, with barely a word out of his mouth. </p>
<p>His younger brother, Joseph, was better with words. He'd be good at this. John... Fuck, John was quiet, shy. Too good for their fucking parents. </p>
<p>They were gone. And now he was pissing his life away in the streets.</p>
<p>Hadn't eaten in three days. Nobody was tossing enough out in tough times. Eaten a rat or two, but it was getting cold, and the lucky bastards found warmer places than this. </p>
<p>Legs stretched out, head tipped back against the burned out liquor store. He could swear he could feel the warmth that consumed this place years back.</p>
<p>He wanted to disappear in the forest. </p>
<p>He wanted to remain here, just in case. </p>
<p>Boots. Closer and closer. Better not be that fucking church again.</p>
<p>The smell of hot meat. Salt. Church brought cold sandwiches, no matter the weather.</p>
<p>It sat down beside him before he opened his eyes.</p>
<p>A burger was dropped in his lap, wrapped up tight.</p>
<p>He shoved it in his mouth, wrapper an all, before it tossed another into his lap.</p>
<p>Big box of fries at his side, lid flipped down. </p>
<p>Give him a minute.</p>
<p>Bottle of whiskey.</p>
<p>One scarred hand tossed the bottle against the wall across from them.</p>
<p>"Dramatic." A young woman laughed in his ear.</p>
<p>That got his attention.</p>
<p>He turned as she placed a large polystyrene cup of coffee in the thin strip of concrete between them. Black. A couple of cream pots, and a handful of sugar slips dropped beside it in the damp.</p>
<p>She grabbed another burger out the bag to her side as he started to consume the other one on his lap. She tossed the one she had gotten out into his lap, and got another out, immediately biting into it. Wrapper an all. </p>
<p>She ate the wrapper.</p>
<p>Street rat.</p>
<p>Mid 20s maybe - Out here ages you. Olive skin. Light brown hair, down just past her ears, bit ratty. Bright eyes. White teeth, and big lips reddened with dots of ketchup from the burger.</p>
<p>Wearing a black jumper, sopping wet. He noticed thick wads of newspaper underneath. They shared that. She'd been out here a while. Like him.</p>
<p>Tatty blue jeans covering skinny chicken legs, and black boots completed the street look.</p>
<p>She sat so close, he could feel the tremble run through her. Her actions and light humming told him she didn't fear him.</p>
<p>She must be cold.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Fucking hell, it's cold. </p>
<p>I thought I could sit here by this red haired man, and he'd heat me up with his fire hair, and fuming outlook on life.</p>
<p>He was fucking dramatic, and that made me laugh. Been a while. I'll stay here a bit. He's fine sharing my burgers and breaking my shit.</p>
<p>I'd seen him about four months back. Stalked him for a while. He was military, no doubt. I don't think anybody with intelligence would doubt that.</p>
<p>Familiar.</p>
<p> He held himself waaaay up high. So tall, despite our situation. He never begged or pleaded. So very strong, physically, at least. Scars... Scars were nothing to me, but society feared them. Like they'd peel off his flesh and strut confidently to the flesh of society, and make themselves at home. Forever. </p>
<p>But no. That's not how it works. Those scars belonged to him now. </p>
<p>It was like he was still at war. </p>
<p>And if you ever lived on the streets, you know that you're always at war.</p>
<p>Survival. Desperate. It's fucking difficult to hold your dignity here. As soon as I saw him, I saw dignity. </p>
<p>But...</p>
<p>Over the last month or so, like with the warmth, it had started to fade a touch. He was staggering with each passing day. Clearly searching for something or someone. Never giving up. I guess I was impressed by that. The hope. </p>
<p>And me? I didn't need to find anyone, I just needed to live. </p>
<p>I grabbed another couple of burgers out and tossed one to him. Wrapper and all. Why waste? Good for the environment. I smirked, my parents would be proud. He grabbed at his coffee, drinking it black, as I grabbed at my coffee, brimming with sugar. </p>
<p>He consumed his fourth burger. I reached for another, and he put his heavy hand on my knee, shaking his head, and picked up the box of fries, dropping it in his lap as he grabbed half dozen ish at a time with his other hand. Like he was worried I'd take it away. </p>
<p>He placed his heavy hand back on my knee, and I left it there. Extra warmth. Nice to be noticed instead of being invisible. </p>
<p>Excuses out here.<br/>
Thin on the ground.<br/>
Reality hits hard.</p>
<p>We consumed. A rich, hot meal. Not exactly a steak at the Ritz, but for us it was. The rain continued to drop, the paper bag mush with what remained of the coffee cups, the fries boxes, and the various bits. I tossed the bag away in a trash bin beside us, the overly fat flies welcoming our gift.</p>
<p>We sat for a few moments, the nearby road heavy with late afternoon traffic. He started to rub a thumb across my knee as a deep tremble ran through me, and the heated man suddenly jumped up quick against the shelled out store. He reached his warm hand out, and I took it. He pulled me up easily, and then tugged me silently to a bridge nearby.</p>
<p>His home.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Kid is gonna get sick. It was the least he could fucking do. He dragged her into his shelter, lifting the plastic flap out of the way, and dropping it immediately to conserve heat. </p>
<p>The only reason he left this tip was to sit near that fucking liquor store. His brothers, himself, they all knew of it. What was left of their childhood home was gone a long time ago, before he'd even shown up. Torn down remains, building materials appearing about three months back. </p>
<p>To replace hell.</p>
<p>His brothers wouldn't return there. Nothing left. What is left is better buried. Second best choice was the burnt out liquor store. They had to pick up liquor for their old man, Jacob adept at stealing tiny candy bars for his little brothers from the crazy old fucker behind the till.</p>
<p> One day, Jacob discovered it. A new world, built for young kids to explore. They'd disappear through the gap in the wall, hidden behind the liquor store, to the forest beyond, spending hours lost back there. Only way through for a fair few miles. </p>
<p>Best memories. Jacob hadn't discovered it until he about 9. He had dragged Joe there one day, his little brother stumbling over his mismatched boots in his confusion over Jacob's excitement. The forest was theirs. No stench of pollution, no beatings, no ignorance. Just chattering bugs, and croaking frogs, and the howling of owls like ninjas in the trees. Unseen. </p>
<p>One time, Jacob <em> swore </em> he saw a wolf!!</p>
<p>He pointed it out to Joe, but it was gone so fast. A flick of its tail was all that was left in his memory for years.</p>
<p>Jacob promised himself then that one day, even if he was super old, he'd find a wolf, and train it be at his side to protect his family.</p>
<p>Joseph wouldn't speak often while in the forest. He mostly was interested in all the tiny details. Picking up bugs, letting them skitter up his arms. Befriending newts, letting them run over his journal so he could have a set of their prints.</p>
<p> Drawing. So much drawing. From plants, tiny and hidden, to the massive trees that mocked the human height as they swung above the brothers. The bugs were neatly drawn, names and details researched later in the library. Bird feathers were collected, and saved. Fish scales were patterned perfectly as Jacob would collect the fish for cooking. Joseph was interested. Took in the details, and quietly pointed out to Jacob what could be seen or heard or experienced. </p>
<p>Living with Joseph was like living within a museum. </p>
<p>When little John had unexpectedly shown up, Jacob had done everything he could to protect him. John was so small, so innocent, his eyes as blue as what they imagined the sea to be. John was full of giggles. Poke his little pudgy belly, and that was it. Non-stop giggles. Tickled his little chubby feet, and he'd kick and kick, his tiny hands reaching out to grasp at Jacob. </p>
<p>A new experience. </p>
<p>Like the forest. To be protected, to be loved. </p>
<p>To never leave him behind.</p>
<p>He had taken John to their secret forest, many times. Teaching him of squirrels, of rabbits, and smelly skunks. John loved birds. Jacob could swear his first word was "fly". When John was old enough, before they were separated, he'd climb up Jacob, digging his little Velcro sneakers painfully into Jacob's flesh to get higher and higher, dodging Jacob's attempts to bring him back to earth. </p>
<p>Jacob knew that John would probably wish to be a pilot, or even an astronaut when he grew up.</p>
<p>The forest held another gift for his littlest brother. A winding river, with clear water, and busy with fish. Many days, after their beatings, they'd attempt to ignore the bruises. Distracting John of his pain. Dipping his feet into the cool water of the magic river that ran through their wonderful forest. </p>
<p>Their magic river that could heal when tiny feet were dipped.</p>
<p>Jacob and Joseph would dip their feet at the same time, placating John. These events usually ending with splash fights, and trying to catch fish with their bare hands. John not quite understanding but so very much wishing to be a part of it. Jacob would clasp his large, pale hands over John's stubby, curious fingers, and clap their hands over a tiny fish. </p>
<p>Success! </p>
<p>By the time they left the river, it was almost like all their pain was left bobbing along with the fish. </p>
<p>Maybe the river was magic.</p>
<p>Jacob had visited that forest since returning. But only once. He could still hear their laughter whistling through the trees. He couldn't go back until he found them. Instead, he sat at the entrance. Everyday. Rain or fucking shine. With his sheltered home under the bridge nearby, it became easy to create a window out of the plastic sheeting. A smelly, springs missing chair forever pointed towards the entrance to their forest.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>He tossed a stack of newspapers into the makeshift fire drum at the far side of his shelter, then sat heavily in the stinky chair pointed at the window torn into the plastic. It felt like he'd been here a while, in this shelter below the traffic. Just for him. No bed, just that chair I could smell from here. </p>
<p>I sat down on a newspaper beside the fire, my chain tinkling as I sat back to cross my legs. Leaning back on the palms of my hands, I lifted my head to the bridge above, listening to the unseen rain dripping beyond the plastic tarp. </p>
<p> "The chains. They're dogtags. I recognise em. Were you military?" Finally, he spoke. His voice gruff and tired. I figured he was mid 30s ish, but his voice aged him beyond that.</p>
<p> "No."</p>
<p> A pause. "Right... They wouldn't give them up unless they was dead." </p>
<p>Straightforward.</p>
<p> "As a doornail." I picked at the dirt beneath my nails, relishing in the grittiness of the gravel. </p>
<p>Silence. After about a half hour, (just dig out a working watch whatdon'tcha?) I stood up, finally warm enough to rush to my shelter. Walking over to him, I placed my hand on his shoulder, ignoring his flinch, and stepped outside into the rain. </p>
<p> I called out behind, speaking a touch louder as the wind blustered about. "So long, neighbour."</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Three days later. Same spot. Same shit weather. New fabulous shit outfit dug out of my wonder black trash bag.</p>
<p>This time: Hot dogs.</p>
<p>I didn't know what he liked, so I just grabbed all 3 of his with mustard, ketchup, and relish. Figuring he can just wipe off any flavours he didn't like with the extra napkins I'd picked up.</p>
<p>He didn't seem like a chilli man.</p>
<p>Of course, living out here, we eat what we can. But I wanted him to have the choice. This ability for me to purchase was a once in a blue moon.</p>
<p>He was here. Staring towards that broken down old wall that had nature trapped beyond. </p>
<p> Or perhaps we were trapped. </p>
<p>I crouched down beside him, then plonked my butt down on the cold, hard ground, sticking my legs out in front of me. Grabbing a hot dog out the bag, I set up our makeshift picnic. </p>
<p>It was good. Damn, it was good. The rain and stench of ashes did nothing to lessen the hot dog's ability to make me groan. Embarrassed, I hoped the wind had caught it, and tossed it into traffic, but the military man's raised eyebrows dismissed that hope. </p>
<p>In defiance, I took another bite, and with my mouth full, sputtered out "Is good hawt drog."</p>
<p> He grinned, shaking his head as he swigged his coffee. </p>
<p>I licked the ketchup off my fingers, then handed him another hot dog. </p>
<p>He was staring at my lips. I realised then that I didn't really know what he was hungry for.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Quit it.</p>
<p>Look up, at her eyes. Hell, look at the hot dog. </p>
<p>Fuck.</p>
<p>Just ask her. That'll ease the tension. The tension that he had created, for fuck's sake.</p>
<p> "What's your name, kid?"</p>
<p> She laughed, apparently grateful for the change in subject still thick in the polluted air.</p>
<p> "My name is Jez Mirsa Murphy-Furoga." She laughed. "My parents went all out, huh? And yours? I'd much rather think of you as anything other than "him"."</p>
<p> "Jacob Seed."</p>
<p> "Ah" Jez stuck out her hand, and he took it, immediately noticing how cold she was. "Pleasure to meet you, neighbour."</p>
<p> "You, too, Jez. You gonna tell me why you keep feeding me?"</p>
<p> "Nope."</p>
<p> Fair play. </p>
<p>He stood up, grasping at her hand again, and tugging Jez along to his shelter. He sat down at his chair, as she perched next to the fire.</p>
<p>He sat back, the warmth immediate. He almost felt tempted to close his eyes against it all. They sat in silence. Some of the pressure let off simply by knowing each other's names.</p>
<p>After a while, Jacob glanced back, to see Jez tugging down at the blue shirt she was wearing.</p>
<p>The dogtags sat on her collarbone, slightly to the side, and under the tags was a fairly new thick scar above where her heart was. Heart surgery. Seems she had scars of her own.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Fuck. I wish I could stay here. My shirt was completely dry. And the tags were warm against my flesh, which was fairly fucking rare. Usually, I was too cold for the metal. I buttoned my shirt up to my neck, teasing and tossing the idea of curling up next to this fire like a puppy. </p>
<p>Standing up, I brushed down my clothes, grateful in finding no damp spots, then spun around to find Jacob directly in front of me. </p>
<p>I opened my mouth, and he shook his head. I shut my mouth, tighter as he briskly unbuttoned the buttons I had just done up, revealing my tags, my scar, and just enough hint of cleavage to blush over.</p>
<p>He gently ran a finger down my scar, all the way down, even over the rise of my breast, leaving me chilled after all that time chasing the warmth. </p>
<p>Or maybe I wished I was chilled.</p>
<p> Leaving my scar be, my shamefully missing his coarse roughness against such a delicate area, he lifted my tags, reading the name. </p>
<p>Not my name.</p>
<p>Jacob raised an eyebrow at this, tipping his head as he looked me straight on. I shook my head back at him. I wasn't ready yet. </p>
<p>Being this close to him, I could see his tags told me his truth. They were his. The military had claimed him. The military hadn't claimed me. I had tried. Instead, they had claimed another, and now I wore their mark. </p>
<p>The metal, and the scar.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>These meetings of lunch and warmth carried on for about three weeks. With the chill, I brought extra blankets, leaving them on the back of his chair as I made my way to his fire barrel. Our conversations were brisk. Memories silent. We knew our limit, and never ventured beyond a certain step. </p>
<p>The touches... I'm not quite sure how, but we were young around each other. Like college students. A slight shoulder brush here. A stare caught and returned. My right chicken leg, Jacob's left muscular leg pressed together while we ate. </p>
<p>Each meal that we dug into, almost with desperation, was like a first date.</p>
<p>That final visit, before everything changed, I was leaving his shelter. The weather was cold, nipping at my toes and the warmth from his fire was needed more than wanted. I'd stayed a lot longer than I usually would have. </p>
<p>I caught his looking at me. Or, at least, in my direction. He never blushed when I caught him. Or smiled, for that matter. By not knowing anything about him, it left me a little afloat. I never really knew Jacob, but I wanted him. </p>
<p>I turned towards the exit, brushing past his chair when a heavy, cold hand grabbed at my arm.</p>
<p>Stopping, but not turning, I waited for his next move. I listened as his chair creaked, heavy boot steps, then silence as I felt his presence behind. So simple, yet I felt like I was going to throw up not knowing is this was his final goodbye, or if it was something else.</p>
<p>Jacob tugged gently at my arm, and I breathed out quietly, spinning on my boot, the tags tinkling together in excitement at seeing the other tags forever resting on his chest. </p>
<p>Looking up at him, his face held no expression. How anybody could bring emotion out of him... I'd never know. </p>
<p>Jacob dragged his hand up my arm, up and over my shoulder, and lightly gripped at the side of my neck. I can feel the slight tug as he catches my hair, and the roughness as he rubbed his thumb along my chin to keep me steady.</p>
<p>He lifts his thumb just a touch too high, and I open my mouth wide enough to pull it in. He tastes like ash. I smile as I wrap my tongue around the tip of his thumb, grazing the nail with my teeth, watching as his pale blue eyes go wider, his breathing unsteady. </p>
<p>I can feel his fingers gripping tighter at my neck, knowing that I did this to him, this giant of a man, with just a single naughty touch. </p>
<p>It makes me feel powerful. </p>
<p>I bite. Enough to leave my mark. </p>
<p>I let go, and he pulls away, his hand still held in the air as I walk out the exit into the chilled, lack of thumb nibbling air.</p>
<p>I turn, and whisper "So long, neighbour."</p>
<p> ***</p>
<p>Jez bit him. </p>
<p>You'd think he'd be fed up with marks upon his flesh, and anybody with common sense wouldn't dare add to them, but she had stared directly into his eyes and bit him.</p>
<p>After rolling her tongue around... Oh fuck. </p>
<p>Despite the cold, Jacob felt the warmth coil within him. Forgotten almost. It had been a fucking while. </p>
<p>However, it didn't take long for the cold to come back. He'd have to stock up on newspapers. Winter came rarely here, and Jacob was used to the heat. He stared out his makeshift window, two blankets wrapped tightly around him, his eyes flinching against the chill. </p>
<p>Jacob wished his brothers would just fucking show up already. </p>
<p>If they were still looking for him.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Three days later, and I returned, clutching a bag of burgers, hot coffee, and 6 extra blankets because Jacob takes up a lot of room. I also brought some supplies for his fire barrel, it was an unusual winter, and if that's all he had... Maybe I should offer to...</p>
<p>What?</p>
<p>I didn't expect him to be here, watching his wall, but the warm glow of red that usually came from his shelter... It was out. Completely. Just blue, cold blue, lightened by the plastic sheeting.</p>
<p>Part of living out here means that you notice things. You have to. The wrong man, clutching at his pants. The right $20 note, hidden damp under a stack of shredded leaves. It all matters. </p>
<p>So when I saw his combat boot stuck sharply out from under the sheeting, askew as the shape behind was slumped, I knew to run.</p>
<p>Shoving aside his sheeting, I dropped the blankets beside him, immediately reaching for his pulse. It was difficult to tell if he was pale as he was regularly pale, but his mumbling and weak pulse told me what needed to be done. I only had light experience of this, but it had happened before. </p>
<p>Hypothermia.</p>
<p>I wrapped him up in all my blankets, careful not to make him too hot, then ran outside to a nearby shitty phone by a shop further up. 911. Ambulance. Basically telling me what I already knew. 20 minutes for nearby help. Minimum. Keep him warm, but not too warm. Try to keep him conscious. Yada yada. I was impatient to go back, so I nailed my "Yes, Sirs" then dropped the phone when I was able.  </p>
<p>I tripped in my panic rushing back to him, grazing both my palms and leaving the gravel painfully embedded, then got off my ass and pushed through into his shelter. Remain calm, Jez. He needs you intact.</p>
<p>He was still wrapped, thank God. Still mumbling. Mentioning a John, a Joseph, a magic river? Clap your hands, Johnny? Was it rude to listen in on this? I sat down beside him, thinking. He was still trembling. Don't rub his limbs. Can I sit on his lap? Maybe if I'm half held by the chair. I sat, leaning back, and he came to a little. His pale blues stirring. </p>
<p>A heavy hand escaped the blankets, slugging its way up my hip. It raised my shirt, burrowing inside, past the newspaper insulation. I gasped at the chill it brought, and the ice hand brought down upon my waist. Jacob's eyes shot open when I gasped.</p>
<p>A mumbled "Are you real?"</p>
<p> I nodded, showing my teeth in a worrisome smile. "Ambulance is on its way."</p>
<p>As if Jacob had just realised that his hand was freezing, he started to pull back, but I ran my hand up my sleeve, and pressed his into my scrawny flesh at my hip. </p>
<p>I leaned forward, sharing his breath, as I searched his drowsy eyes. They turned aware, quick as a whip like a switch had been flipped.</p>
<p> "You need to...To go. You need to go. I'm a wanted man. The...they are gonna arr...rest me."</p>
<p> "Why? What happened?!"</p>
<p> "Outside a.... A bar... Two y...ears back. ...shit...."</p>
<p> He couldn't stop his teeth chattering. Fuck. I didn't know what to...</p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p>Warmth? Yes.<br/>
Bad idea? Yes.</p>
<p>I kissed him. Pulling my hand off his up my jumper and dragging my fingers up his neck and into his hair, tugging at the roots. </p>
<p>He moaned, his lips trembling as I nipped, and bit, and prodded. His chattering becoming just an extra bite to our naughty, and ill-timed deeds. I was fascinated by the sudden heat that came from within me, hoping that it found its way to him.</p>
<p>I grabbed at his dogtags while he was distracted, and looped them over my neck, never letting go of his lips, switching them for my own which I pushed just under the blankets. He didn't notice, or if he did, he didn't care.</p>
<p>I hopped up, still forcing my lips into his which he accepted with gratitude, and stradded his crotch up and over the blankets, tucking my knees into the gaps between his hips and his chair. He struggled to keep up, but that's okay. I just needed him awake, and from what I could feel against my thigh, a part of him certainly was.</p>
<p>We kissed, and bit, and sucked leaving marks across the neck, the collarbone, the chest. Anywhere to leave our flag. I admittedly left more than he did. </p>
<p>This was not what the 911 operator ordered, hell, it might kill him faster, but it worked. By the time the blue lights flickered against our tangle of limbs, and the soft moans emitting from our deep naughtiness were deafened by the sirens, the screaming memories and terrible decisions across our chests were firmly pressed together. </p>
<p>For now, he was not Jacob Seed anymore.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>John Seed briskly ran his hand through his neat hair, welcoming the pain as he tugged it back and back. Joseph would be here soon. They were ready to continue with their search. They knew their eldest brother was here. They knew it. They had searched through the VA clinics, the hospitals, the shelters for all types of broken down men and women, the mental institutions where the screams still vibrated through their heads, and, hell, even the fucking morgue.</p>
<p>All his connections were finished, and used up. The few that he had left were worthless. John could make more, of course. If anybody was able to, it was him, and that was fact, not bragging, but they needed to find him now. It had been too long. Too fucking long. </p>
<p>John barely remembered Jacob at all.</p>
<p>It was easy to find pictures. From juvenile detention, from prison, from the military, but no amount of photos can make a person real.</p>
<p>What mattered is that he wasn't dead. </p>
<p>But they still couldn't find him.</p>
<p>And the information that he wasn't dead was years old.</p>
<p>The only thing John could do was be a part of the company that'll build on the grave of their hellish childhood together, even if he was barely a partner. Usually, that would be a victory, but Joseph finding John just reminded him how he had lost at what was most important.</p>
<p>He wanted his family back.</p>
<p>Lounging back on his leather sofa, his thin muscular legs crossed, he grabbed at the ice cold glass of water with a twist of lemon that he had regrettably shifted onto after Joseph had turned up. At least, publicly.</p>
<p>Sipping away, letting the condensation ease down the glass to dampen his fingers against the heat of the central heating, John closed his eyes for just a second before the stubborn RING of his desk phone disturbed him.</p>
<p>With a particularly violent swear, John dropped the glass down on the coaster, and stomped his way over to his study, calming himself before he reached the phone in case it was Joseph.</p>
<p>He smiled easily at the ringing, soothing himself back into John Duncan. It was an unknown number. Not Joseph. Could be anybody, from crooked politicians with a hard on for dead prostitutes, to sports freaks with direct links to drugs and no way to hide them. </p>
<p>Either way, let John Duncan play.</p>
<p>Cracking his neck, he picked up the phone.</p>
<p> "John Duncan. How can I help?"</p>
<p> Static. A terrible line. Could still be someone important.</p>
<p> "Oh FUCK!!" A woman's voice swore horrendously. John could hear the weather batting away behind, blowing into the receiver.</p>
<p> "Pleasure to meet you, too, my dear. How can I be of service?"</p>
<p> "Shit. Sorry Mr Duncan. I'm looking for someone. One of my contacts gave me this number but..." A pause, John listening intently as it appeared the woman on the phone twisted away for a second, nature taking her place. "...Look, your name is John, correct? I don't suppose you know a Joseph?"</p>
<p> John's mouth dropped open. Nobody knew about Joseph. He was brand new to this life John had acquired. As he was considered that, the door to his apartment was unlocked - Joseph immediately having had a key made to catch John out - and the person to which topic he was surprised about entered.</p>
<p>John twisted to stare at Joseph, his eyes furrowed as Joseph stepped forward in curiosity. </p>
<p> "Miss, how do...Who are you?"</p>
<p> "So that's a yes? Just give me a straight up answer. It's fucking cold out here."</p>
<p>Joseph raised his eyebrows, and cocked his head at John, and John put the phone on speaker, cradling the base to his chest. </p>
<p> "Yes, my name is John and I have a brother named Joseph."</p>
<p> The two brothers both heard the woman swear once more, the blustering wind behind her adding to her excitement.</p>
<p> She spoke up, an obvious relief in her voice. "Fucking finally! John, and Joseph Seed? As in, brothers to Jacob Seed?"</p>
<p> John dropped the phone.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p> Oh.</p>
<p> "Urm...Hello?"</p>
<p> The phone bashed about a little, agitated noises galore. </p>
<p> "Hello...hello??? Are you there, miss?" A new voice, calmer and a touch more southern than the confident, brisk tone of the other dude.</p>
<p> "Yes, still here. You're the ones that dropped the phone. But you gotta hurry, the weather is awful here, and the line is spotty at best."</p>
<p> "Of course. Did you say Jacob Seed?"</p>
<p> "Yup. Big tall pale dude, matted scars, red hair, gruff exterior, likes walls."</p>
<p> A pause.</p>
<p> "Where are you?"</p>
<p> "Rome in Georgia. You know it?"</p>
<p> Laughter from other dude - fast paced, and almost manic.</p>
<p> "Yes, we know it. Will you please tell us where has our brother been staying?"</p>
<p> "Oh. Yeah, bit difficult to say this but he's living on the streets. There's this burned out store that stinks of old liquor, and I met him just leaning against it, staring at a wall leading to woodlands. His shelter is under a bridge nearby."</p>
<p> Another pause, mutterings in the back.</p>
<p> Calm man returned. Sounding a little choked up. "Okay. Okay, thank you. Is he... Is he alive? Can we speak to him?"</p>
<p> "Oh sorry, I shoulda mentioned. He is definitely alive, but he's on his way to hospital. He shou..." The line cut out.</p>
<p> No, oh fuck!!</p>
<p>I dropped the phone, pushing through the biting wind to another toilet/phone booth. The cord was cut. Scrawled lyrics mocked me from the glass.</p>
<p>I didn't know this area well enough. But I kept going. Trying to find one that wasn't shit. </p>
<p>Eventually, about 20 minutes later, I found one outside a library. Shoving my coins in, I rang up the number scribbled on my arm. </p>
<p> "Hello. You've reached John Duncan. Unfortunately, I am unable to take your call right now. Please leave your name and number after the beep."</p>
<p> Rome, Georgia tragically lost another phone that night.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The next day, and I was packing up to leave. I had already rang the hospital to check up, and Jacob was doing well. He'd be out in a few days. Still a little dopey. I had tried calling John and Joseph but no answer, just the cocky answering machine. </p>
<p>Minimum one extra broken phone was added to Rome. </p>
<p>Jez has anger issues.<br/>
Especially when I knew I had to leave. </p>
<p>Jacob didn't need my level of crazy. His staring at a wall was pretty odd, but let's not add to that. Let him stir his own crazy.</p>
<p>Cramming everything into this backpack wasn't too difficult, but something else was. I told myself it was just because I wanted to check up on it. He cared about that wall, about his shelter. Such things mean so much to people like us. </p>
<p>I walked quickly through the cold, my boots stamping the sidewalk with as much fury as I could muster for the terrible weather that got us into this. At least my backpack was warm against my back. </p>
<p>I saw the wall first. Crumbled, aged, covered in lightly frozen moss. I crouched, running my fingers along it, and wondered why he was so fascinated. This is a mystery that will sadly be left in the wind. Jacob will return here, and as I leave, trampling my way to a new life, I'll continue to phone his people until they can find him. </p>
<p>He needs them...unless they're trying to kill him. SHIT. Okay, they're probably not. I'll just ask them. </p>
<p>I ran my fingers across the moss a final time, then brushed off the bits, and stood, twisting around.</p>
<p>A man! Fuck! I barely took him in before stamping a boot on his noticeably shiny shoes, and elbowing him in the jaw.</p>
<p>He stumbled back, and that's when I noticed another man.</p>
<p> Neat dark hair, brushed back. Beginnings of a beard. Sharp, angular cheekbones. Cardigan under a fleece jersey. Black slacks, with folds. Boots, ratty but clean.  </p>
<p>The other man was a lot more snazzy - Young, handsome, softer baby face. Suit and tie. Expensive fleece trimmed jacket. Shiny shoes, perfectly kept. </p>
<p>I raised my fists, ready to take them on, but the less injured man calmly raised his hands, taking a step back before tending to injured shiny shoes. </p>
<p>He only bit his tongue for fuck's sake. </p>
<p> Calm dude spoke up. "Please, we're not here to harm you. We're only looking for our brother. Tall, red hair, possibly scarred, and sat around near here."</p>
<p> I recognised his voice immediately.</p>
<p> "Yeah, I know him, I gave you those details. Are you gonna kill him?"</p>
<p> Injured, John?, spoke up "No!! Of courspt nottte." He spat out, blood dripping down his lip. "Pleacse, we've been turgh the hosspitalspt, and there's no Jacob Sppeet. Did you lie to usgh?!"</p>
<p> He stepped forward angrily, raising his fist. I stepped forward, ready to hurt him again, but the other person, Joseph, stepped between us.</p>
<p> "John, don't. Calm your Wrath. Miss, we just want to bring him home." Ah, it finally clocked to him that "Home" was my Achilles heel. It didn't take him long either. </p>
<p> "Okay. Alright. He's at Rush General..."</p>
<p> John stepped forward again, Joseph pushed him physically back, whispering something in his ear, which made John flinch, his eyes widening. Curious.</p>
<p>Joseph nodded at me to continue, still holding onto John.</p>
<p> "...Er yeah, right. He's at Rush General, but not under Jacob Seed. I think he was in trouble for something, so I gave the paramedics a different name. He's under Nate Murphy-Furoga. Nate ...He's dead, but I know from personal experience that the military is shit at records, especially down here. It was a long shot, but it worked. I've been checking up on Nate down at Rush, and according to them, Nate is still alive and will be perfectly fine."</p>
<p> "John, grab a pen. Nate Murphy-Furoga? Please spell that for us, my dear."</p>
<p> I ran off my tongue, knowing that it wouldn't be the last time I spelled my fiddly surname.</p>
<p>I gave out other details, too. His age etc. Place of birth. Whatever would help. </p>
<p>Shifting my backpack further onto my back, I felt the chain dangle as a reminder under my shirt.</p>
<p>My last piece of Jacob. </p>
<p>They belonged to him.<br/>
But he belonged to me.<br/>
I didn't say a word.</p>
<p>Until... "Wait. Joseph, you need to give him something. Something to fight for. Some way to find purpose in his life. He doesn't belong in a place like this - leaning against ashes in the cold and staring at a wall."</p>
<p> Joseph nodded. He smiled softly, then carefully stepped in front of me. </p>
<p>I saw Jacob in him.<br/>
Just the edges.<br/>
Just the bits.<br/>
Just the blues. </p>
<p>A tear ran down my cheek, and I was mad at it, mad at being caught out. But Joseph just brushed it away, like it was nothing. He kept his rough, warm fingers on my cheek, and brought his forehead down to my own. </p>
<p>Keeping it there, Joseph whispered. "You can always come with us."</p>
<p> I shook my head against him.</p>
<p> "No. Thank you. I don't deserve family. Take care of him and... Let him take care of you."</p>
<p> I stepped back, walking away from the only living connection to my ex possible future hump buddy.</p>
<p>The tear came back in clear disobedience, and the bastard brought friends.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Hospital walls, the stench of cleanliness, the tip tapping of heels, the beeping beside him and every other way, the crying, the desperation, fuck, even the pure joy.</p>
<p>Jacob fucking hated it.</p>
<p>But he was alive. She had saved him. </p>
<p>She had also grinded her crotch into his at the most unusual of moments. </p>
<p>Jacob chuckled to himself, wondering if the 911 operator had suggested that. Fucking owed them if they did.</p>
<p>He barely remembered anything from the time of his hypothermia. He just remembered being cold, wrapping himself with his shit old blankets, and the more worthy blankets Jez had provided. Still wasn't enough. </p>
<p>And then... Jez. Kissing, and nipping, and grinding, her fingers finding places long forgotten by Jacob. Stirring something beyond his focus of finding his brothers. </p>
<p>Something on his flesh, and something deep within.</p>
<p>Fuck. Jacob wanted outta here. He hated this weakness. Attached to bags of warmth and shitty tepid hospital food on plastic trays.</p>
<p>The white coats said "3 days, Mr Murphy-Furoga." </p>
<p>Hard not to mistake the major name change.</p>
<p>1 day max. He'd be out. For his brothers. </p>
<p>For her. </p>
<p>Jacob shifted, tugging his wires with him, facing the window. The corner spot was always appreciated. He picked at the threads of the hospital blanket, staring outside at the tips of trees and the bird population braving the cold.</p>
<p>He thought of John. John would love those wispy wings, shoving his little fists into the air as if he could hold onto them to be dragged up into the sky. </p>
<p>He thought of Joseph. He would already be sketching the trees, his bare bruised knees painted in dirt, his eyes would narrow and his tongue would flicker out in concentration.</p>
<p>Jacob muttered their names. Loud enough to himself that the names would be forced through the glass and out into the world. Calling them back. </p>
<p>That was the plan anyway. </p>
<p>He didn't hear the nurse call his fake name. Jacob cut out the three pairs of different footwear tapping along the floor, closer and closer. You'd think he'd be more aware. And when a warm hand was placed on his shoulder, and he spun round to find out who the fuck would have the audacity t...</p>
<p> Joseph? </p>
<p>His plan worked.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>He was here. Finally, the eldest brother had been found. Their family was complete. Jacob... He had been through hell, if the scars told them anything, and as his big brother stumbled out of this meagre hospital bed, tugging wires out of the wall, his mouth agape, familiar blue eyes blown open, Joseph could finally see the brother who had been dragged away that fateful day. </p>
<p>Resilient.<br/>
Purposeful.<br/>
Strong.</p>
<p>There was still a tremor within Jacob, but Joseph held that aside as the moment of the brothers finally together again... He felt it rush within him, already bringing his head to Jacob's, pulling John in at his side. Their hands grasped at arms, at waists, at necks, a tangle of limbs as if they couldn't believe the gift God had bestowed on them.</p>
<p>Family. Brothers reunited. Thank God. </p>
<p>Thank God.</p>
<p>The emotion. It was loud, and abrupt. Not at all like what the brothers were used to. This would be a new start. </p>
<p>They couldn't thank that brash young woman enough. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Utah.</p>
<p>Something was following me.</p>
<p>I wasn't far off. Nevada was my go to. It was warm, had aliens. Who needs anything else?</p>
<p>Weeks on the road, and nothing at all. A few hitch hiking trips. A few pit stops. A few close calls.</p>
<p>And I'd almost forgotten about him. That's what I told myself on the few moments that I DIDN'T rub his dogtags like I was trying to conjure him out of nothing.</p>
<p>But a blade in my fist I'd pinched out of the hand of a truck driver who got too frisky, and then got too bloody, was my only defence against what was stalking me.</p>
<p>I had this. </p>
<p>Oh shit.</p>
<p>I didn't have this. </p>
<p>There was more than one.</p>
<p>Come on, Jez. Remember your total lack of training.</p>
<p>Stabby stabby.</p>
<p>Oh shit. Oh no. Just a little stab, now tear, tear like it's for your life. And again. Oh shit, it bit me. I know you like it, Jez, but don't bite back, babe. Just stab n drag. You got its leg, its got your leg. Grab the stick!! Thump thump. There goes an eyeball. The other one is smooshed. Just one left. Go for the gut. Oh gross. It's started to eat its friends. Should I just..? No, kill it now. It'll finish its friends eventually. </p>
<p>I sat down in the mayhem, half an intestine in my lap. Blood dripping, mixed.</p>
<p>Part human, part wolf.<br/>
Fully disgusted.</p>
<p> "Dramatic." </p>
<p>... </p>
<p>That was not the wolf.</p>
<p> ***</p>
<p>No way in hell she'd leave without him. But she did. Stubborn pup that she is. 

A few days after the emotional meeting, Jacob had left the hospital with his brothers, and started to track. With the interfering of the vehicles, part of this journey was troublesome for even his keen tracking and survival skills, but with John's contacts with traffic cameras and truck locators, it was a notable success. </p>
<p>Something to pin on his fucking wall.</p>
<p>And here she was. </p>
<p>Jacob had charged down, dodging between the trees, knife ready and angled for death. By the time he had made it, Jez was just sitting in the remains of three wolves, a little finger softly dragging up the part of intestine on her lap, a messy with blood and hair blade scratching into the dirt beneath her.</p>
<p>And when he had announced his presence, she hadn't even shifted. Content to rise her chin a touch, waiting for his next words, for his next actions. </p>
<p>He sat opposite. Right in the blood. He'd only ever seen a wolf once before, he knew he had as a child, and now he was surrounded by bits of them, letting their blood soak through his jeans. </p>
<p>Jacob tugged the blade out of Jez's hand, inspecting the bloodied weapon.</p>
<p> "It isn't mine. Stole it off, and swiped it at a future murderer."</p>
<p> "Doesn't suit you anyways." Jacob grunted, tossing the shit blade away. </p>
<p> "So, I guess my teeth is my only defence now."</p>
<p> "I dunno... Those teeth of yours. They certainly have some bite." Jacob grinned, rubbing at the remains of the faded bruises she had bit into him.</p>
<p>Jez smiled up at Jacob. The wolves had got her good. 2 claw catches up her cheek, a bite to her leg enough to tear through denim and draw blood, blood still dripping heavily down her arm from an unseen fuck knows. She was a mess, and she still just smiled up at him, like they were on a fucking picnic.</p>
<p>He caught the glint of his dogtags. Her shirt was torn, a button ripped off, and the bright scar down her heart was hidden beneath like the background to his military service.</p>
<p>Jacob reached forward, pulling Jez against him. Tasting her blood, their blood, as she started to nip, and bite. Jacob probed her mouth with his tongue. Obsessed in her nipping, as all he wanted to do was explore. He dropped his hand down to the base of her sticky shirt, and burrowed his way in, squirming his way up the smooth, silky flat vega of her stomach, and up to the gentle swell of the heaven above. </p>
<p>No bra.</p>
<p>Never had such an incredible sentence gone through his mind. He wanted to run it through over and over, but his mind was set on other softer swelling things.</p>
<p>Jacob grazed her hardening nipple with his rough thumb, she gasped into the evening sky, then bit down hard enough on his tongue to make him chuckle. </p>
<p>Jacob eased his way blindly across to her other breast, leaving his mouth to nibble her nipple farewell through her shirt, tasting the heavy copper of the blood laden fabric which stirred something deep inside. </p>
<p>He wanted her now, but as Jacob reached the scar, Jez stopped, suddenly pulling away, leaving Jacob to drop his hand to the cooling blood.</p>
<p> "No." Jez gasped, her breathing quickened. She backed up until she hit a tree.</p>
<p> "You can't! WE can't! You have your family, Jacob. I assume they found you and didn't kill you. Go home!"</p>
<p> Jacob shook his head, standing up sharply and walking through the mess to Jez, grabbing at her wrist to pull her up.</p>
<p> "You're my family. You're my home."</p>
<p> A tear ran through the blood, marking its way down her neck and ending against his dogtags. </p>
<p> "Not yet." Jez whispered. "You need to know."</p>
<p> Jacob knew she had her secrets, just as he had his.</p>
<p>He sat down, pulling her against his side, as she lost herself in the blood beneath them.</p>
<p> "I had a big brother. Nate. He was big, bigger than you, tougher than you. Could take your ass down, no problem." Jez smiled at the memory, tearing up a  exterminated leaf.</p>
<p> "Blond hair, green eyes. He didn't look tough, but he was. He and I always used to rebel against our hippy, but loving parents. When they passed on during a job in Brazil, Nate brought me up. He was a few years older, and he joined the army. Naturally, I wished to follow."</p>
<p>Jez tugged at her brother's chain around Jacob's neck. </p>
<p> "I had a heart condition when I was a kid. A few operations, nothing too dramatic. But the army wouldn't take me. I was tough, smart, but it wasn't enough. My heart was a touch weaker than it should be. I was pissed off. Rebelled against everything, including my brother. Got in with a stupid crowd, and one..."</p>
<p> Joseph and John had finally caught up from where they were following him, and they stood by until Jacob gestured for them to sit, pulling Jez further into his lap.</p>
<p>His brothers perched on a log, John's leg twitching.</p>
<p>Jacob cuffed a finger under her chin, nodding for Jez to continue. </p>
<p> "Anyways, one day, we were fucking about on train lines. We knew they weren't in service anymore, but we didn't know up to which point. There were still warning signs. I got shocked, inevitably. The power wasn't as great as it would have been, but it was enough. All but one of my so called friends fucked off, the one left only leaving after calling 911. </p>
<p>I got stuck in hospital. Death's door. My brother came home and he was a mess. Not because of me, but because of horrors inflicted in what he'd seen. When Nate realised he would lose me, he found a way to save me."</p>
<p>Jez stopped, running her fingers along her scar.</p>
<p> "He killed himself. Found a quick way to do it. Simple, clean. He left me $9k in cash, sympathetic army buddies, and his heart."</p>
<p>Jez lifted her bloody hand up, dragging it through Jacob's messy hair, tugging at the strands.</p>
<p> "The 9k... I never wanted to spend it. Felt like it was my fault he died. I kept it on me, carried it about. But it gave me the opportunity to meet you. My brother's contacts, and a good chunk of money gave me your brothers. And his heart...well, his heart gave me you."</p>
<p> Jacob bent down, immediately kissing her soft lips. No biting or nipping, just want, just need, as roaming hands sealed their lust.</p>
<p>Until Joseph coughed.</p>
<p>Right. Shit.</p>
<p> Jez pulled back, just a touch so they were nose to nose, sharing breath.</p>
<p> "Why would you want me?"</p>
<p> Jacob nodded, considering. Now's good a time as any.</p>
<p> "I ate someone."</p>
<p> A pause.</p>
<p>An eyebrow raised.</p>
<p> Then "You gonna eat me?"</p>
<p> Jacob smiled, letting his fingers do his walkin, while his lips did the talkin. (Author note: Yeah, I know. CHEESY. Shh)</p>
<p> "Not like that, darlin."</p>
<p>Jez immediately got his meaning, and his feeling, and blushed as dark as the blood on her shirt.</p>
<p>Another cough from behind. Fucking audience.</p>
<p>Jacob stood, pulling Jez with him. </p>
<p>He captured her soft, bloody lips.</p>
<p> "Let's go home."</p>
<p> "Home?"</p>
<p> Jacob finished her sentence. "Is wherever you and I drop our backpacks. I'll never let any harm come to you. It's only ever been you, Jez."</p>
<p>Jacob tugged at Jez's fingers, pulling her past his brothers as he heard them mention "Wrath...Pride...Need t.. making preparations..."</p>
<p> "No. You don't touch Jez. I'll protect you both, through everything, you know I will, but she's off your list. Starting now, she's mine." </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was a looong One Shot for me, over twice as long as the first one in the Before series, and it took so long to finish that I had to put off an important adult responsibility, which means that I'll do that next week, so my next One Shot Fanfic may be released on the Saturday instead of the Friday. Not 100% certain. Either way, it's being worked on. </p>
<p>I won't forget. I like my little Hits ☺ </p>
<p>Have a lovely Fanfic filled week x</p></blockquote></div></div>
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